


show nothing to me

by ghostrees



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fix-It, M/M, and repressed, but they have to work for it, eventually this will be jon/martin and tim/sasha, from the fact that they're dumb, in the most ridiculous way possible, platonic makeouts used as a distraction, the conceit of this au is Jon and Tim make out as friends and that fixes everything
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:49:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23771857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostrees/pseuds/ghostrees
Summary: Originally, Tim had kissed Jon as an attempt to get him to just shut up for a minute.He isn't quite sure how that led to them talking, but he can't complain about the results.
Relationships: Jonathan Sims/Tim Stoker
Comments: 9
Kudos: 147





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was driven by the fact that we're all under lockdown and I miss my dear friend, with whom I make out with on occasion when we're sad and gay and yearning, as she is currently trapped in the countryside and we're forced to be sad and gay and yearning on our own.  
> This will go through seasons 1-4 probably, and eventually this will be jon/martin and tim/sasha but they're dumb and have to work to get there.  
> Also I'm sorry to any brits reading this but I'm too pretty to use the word snogging :(  
> Anyway title is from the beach boys god only knows, now eat your hearts out on some tim/jon make out content.

Originally, Tim had kissed Jon as an attempt to get him to just shut up for a minute.

  
He isn't quite sure how that led to them talking, but he can't complain about the results. 

* * *

  
"I’d like to kiss you"

  
Jon's eyes are wide and his mouth is open. He's sputtering a bit, like a car engine that's stalled out. Tim is coming to terms with the fact that he finds it _slightly_ (just slightly mind you) adorable. 

"What?" And that tone of voice should not make him want to kiss Jon even more.

  
It'd just been that Brian has been going on again about some stupid Latin text Tim couldn't care less about, except for the fact that what he was saying was so obviously wrong that it was hard to ignore. Even not knowing anything about the ancient Romans beyond what he remembered from _Gladiator_ , Tim had been pretty sure if he had to hear the phrase "the inherently advanced nature of Roman civilization" one more time he was going to have to beat his head in. Or more preferably, beat Brian's head in. Because Tim fucking hates Brian the Tory prick.

If Tim was murderous but restrained during this, Jon had looked as if he was _actually_ only two minutes away from throwing all 5 feet 4 inches of himself at Brian, giving off the kind of rage Tim had only ever seen him direct at the terrible Institute database search engine and guest researchers who left things out of place. Which, while Tim is sure it would've been _entertaining_ to see Jon finally give in to the office wide urge to just murder Brian, it likely would've ended with Jon in a cast and a mountain of paperwork. So, in what Tim is hoping to be another instance of one of his brilliant plans working out, he had invented a task he needed help with in the library, and pulled Jon into one of the rows.

  
Making out had just seemed like a good idea at that point.

  
"I’d like to kiss you. Only if you want to, ‘course. I won't be fussed if you say no." And if Jon could find a way to sell that glare Tim thinks there would be a huge market for it among old women who wanted to speak to the manager. 

  
"Is that wh-"

  
"It's a simple answer Jon. Yes, or no?" And oh now Jon looks determined, and angry, and maybe like he’s about to start yelling, and Tim should've thought this through more it isn't going to-

  
"Yes."

  
"What?"

  
"I, ah. Yes. You can kiss me.” A moment of silence and then, almost smugly, “It's a simple answer Tim." Christ is he a bastard. A bastard with the beginnings of a _smirk_ on his face. There's really nothing else for Tim to do.

  
It starts shallow and tentative, for all the snapping they'd been doing a minute before. Jon's lips are softer than Tim had thought they would be, just slightly chapped, and they easily catch onto Tim's. He slowly, tentatively deepens it, suddenly afraid of making this end, but Jon leans into it, and then in a second they’ve switched gauges, moving from soft, careful exploration to excited embrace. Jon's got his arms around Tim's neck, and Tim's hands are on Jon's waist, and this is _so_ much better than he thought it would be.

  
When they finally break for air, Tim feels a bit off balance, unprepared for just how good that kiss would be. Unprepared for the fact that he really wants to kiss Jon again.

He decides to take this as confirmation that he _is_ in fact brilliant and that his plans always work out.

  
"Why did you do that?" Jon's voice cuts in through the intense study Tim is conducting in his mind on Jon's lips, sounding, in his opinion, unfairly put together considering what they'd just been doing.

  
"Because I wanted to? And you said yes? I didn't— you’re okay?" Jon had seemed fine (far better than fine), but it’s always good to check in.

“I’m _fine_ , Tim,” and there’s the Jon he knows and tolerates, “I just don't understand the, the _why_.”

“Why... you’re okay?”

“ _No_ , you id- _Why you wanted to kiss me in the first place!_ ” It comes out in a frustrated, half whisper that Tim is sure is only as restrained as it is because they _are_ in the library and, impromptu makeout sessions aside, he’s pretty sure Jon would rather die than break the sanctity of this place.

“Because making out for a bit seemed like a preferable way to spend the next fifteen minutes rather than listening to Brian go on.” Jon’s face turns at the mention of Brian, from confused frustration to huffy anger. Tim is really mad that that’s an expression that looks so good on him.

“I-I’m trying to understand. Your first alternative was to make out in the library like a couple of teenagers? With _me?_ ”

Tim shrugs. “Well Sasha’s out investigating the Henry case today so kissing _her_ was out. Also I’ve been trying to figure out something that will get you to stop working for two minutes straight. Based on the results, I would say that's a mission accomplished.”

“Oh fuck off.” Jon’s face only gets more frustrated when Tim starts laughing. “Stop it, Tim.” He really can't help laughing harder. “Really, stop it. Tim. Just, ugh, just _shut up_ -” and then Tim does stop laughing because Jon’s lips are on his again and he’s biting his lower lip, just lightly enough for it to be incredibly interesting and now this is far better than laughing at him.

When they finally break apart again _Jon_ looks dazed and Tim feels satisfied. Now let Jon question his brilliant plans.

“Tim this...”

“Yup.”

“We should not have been doing this at work.”

“And Brian shouldn’t be such a prick. I think we can forgive ourselves.”

Jon lets out a sharp exhale. “This won't... This won’t, will, ah, this c-change things betw- I just mean I. Ah. What I’m-” And Tim isn’t cruel enough to make him keep struggling.

“We’re good Jon. Just a little platonic making out between friends. Very _enjoyable_ platonic making out between friends. Now let's get back to research and hope that Brian has shut up enough that we can focus on the Miller file. I still think you’re wrong about the zombie theory and I’m going to prove it.”

“If Brian hasn’t shut up by now he deserves whatever is inflicted on him.” Jon says so vehemently it’s almost possible to forget that he’s still whispering. “Anyway I am certain that I am right about the zombie theory. There’s a thirteenth century Welsh text that mirrors many of the phenomena that surrounded Miller’s corpse, which contemporaries attributed to zombies and quite a few historians and scientist have attributed—” Jon keeps going as the leave the library, fully in research mode again, except that he does place a hand on Tim’s shoulder briefly as they walk, and when Tim says goodbye at the end of the day, Jon spares him a smile.

* * *

That should’ve been the end of it. But then there was the stupid office holiday party, which was actually just an excuse to get drunk off of Bouchard’s money (or, Tim supposes, the Lukas’ money, but they’re all rich bastards so who really cares), which had ended with a bunch of them going to keep drinking at a nearby pub, which Tim had somehow convinced Jon to come along to.

Which had somehow lead to where they were now, in the restroom of this hole-in-the-wall with Tim’s foot against the broken door to keep any of their co-workers from coming in and seeing the two of them (Jon’s insistence), Tim’s hand in Jon’s hair, Jon’s arms swung around his neck, practically on top of him, their lips pressed together in a way that truly deserves the adjective _desperate_.

It hadn’t been his _plan_ to end up in this disgusting washroom with his tongue halfway down Jon’s throat, but then again he hadn’t planned for seeing Sasha pull a girl at the bar to hurt so much. 

He’s been supportive, of course. Tim was an _excellent_ wingman, thank you very much. And he’d really thought that he’d... well that now that the awkwardness from their one-night stand had finally dissipated, he’d thought that they were back to just being friends. He’d thought that that was what he _wanted_.

The tight feeling in his chest as she’d turned back to mouth _cheers!_ at him as she left holding the hand of the girl said differently.

Of course, instead of processing that emotion, Tim had chosen to go find a pleasantly tipsy Jon, who was in the middle of explaining the difference between whiskey and bourbon to a thoroughly uninterested colleague, gently grab him by the arm, and pull him into this awful washroom. He doesn’t exactly remember how he’d broached the ‘please kiss me I’m sad’ request, but considering their current position he’d managed pretty well.

“This is ridiculous.”

“Funny, did you pick up on that when I had to keep the door shut with my foot, or when you had to grab hold of my shirt to keep from wiping out due to whatever liquid is covering this floor.”

Jon gives him one of his signature thoroughly unimpressed looks at that.

“I just think it’s ridiculous that this is the second time we’ve snuck off like, like _teenagers_!”

“Do you think you’d feel better if we did it a third time?”

“Tim.”  
“Right.”

And then they’re kissing again, thank god.

A few minutes later, after Jon nearly slips again, almost pulling Tim down with him this time, they finally pull away. Jon begins straightening out his shirt and okay, if they’re not going to keep going Tim needs to start doing something else that will keep him from thinking. Like drinking.

“Okay so I’m assuming by the look on your face that this part of the night is done, so let me buy you a drink. You like gin? I have a feeling that you like gin.” This is fine. This is definitely sustainable. If he just keeps moving on from one thing to another he won’t have to think about how he’s feeling, and he can push this buzz into full drunkenness, and then wake up tomorrow too hungover to do much of anything.

He’s just about to pull Jon out the door when suddenly there’s a foot holding it shut that wasn’t there a second ago.

“Tim I... when. Humph. I’m not going to claim to, to be good at this o-or anything but. Ugh. Is there... is everything. Are you alright?” And that is _not_ a rabbit hole Tim wants to jump down right now. Certainly not with Jon in a shitty pub washroom.

“Everything’s great Jon! I just got a kiss from a handsome beau,” Jon scoffs, “I’m about to get utterly smashed, and I don’t have to go to work tomorrow. Why _wouldn’t_ everything be great?”

“Maybe because when you pulled me in here you were mumbling something about ‘being sad’ and ‘not thinking’.” Ah. Apparently that’s how he addressed the ‘please kiss me I’m sad problem. Damn it.

“Listen Jon it’s.. It’s really nothing. Let’s just head back to the bar, okay?” And if he sounds like he’s begging, well. What can he do.

“Tim that’s.. Fine. I think I’m just going to, ah, head out though. Go and get some rest.”

“You? Get some rest? Good one Jon. I’m sure you’ll head back to your flat and read a case file or something. What better way to celebrate the holidays than Mr. Spooky's terrifying encounter with the ghost of his dead gerbil?”

“Ha. Yes well. I suppose I’ll just head off then.” Jon seems to be about to take his foot off the door when he suddenly pauses, and then slowly turns back to look at Tim. “Actually ah. Hmm. I, I haven’t eaten, in a bit and I just remembered that I have no food at my flat so if, if you’d like you can come with me as I pick something up. As, as friends.” A pause and then, “Do not feel obligated to, of course, you don’t need to, and I’ll be perfectly fine on my own-”

“That sounds good Jon.” Tim cuts him off, because christ if watching Jon try and be nice isn’t like watching an excruciatingly slow train wreck. And... and going to some terrible chippy with Jon right now does sound marginally better than getting black out drunk. At least this way he won’t be alone. “Lead the way.”

They do end up going to a terrible chippy, and they don’t say anything meaningful at all, but the grease seems to soak up some of the alcohol, and when Tim wakes up the next day instead of a hangover he’s got memories of fluorescent lighting and sticky chairs and sitting companionably with a friend.


	2. The Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are... different, now that they’re in the archives. Jon knows, objectively, that this makes sense. It’s a different location, different work, different dynamics. Jon’s the boss now. (Jon has no idea what he’s doing now.) That things have changed is natural.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: this is a fic about Jon and Tim making out  
> Also me: *takes 2500 words to get to any making out*  
> Anyway, got caught up with exams but this is finally done. Warning for boss/employee kissing but like. It's Jon and Tim and they talk about it.

Things are... different, now that they’re in the archives. Jon knows, objectively, that this makes sense. It’s a different location, different work, different dynamics. Jon’s the boss now. (Jon has no idea what he’s doing now.) That things have changed is natural.

Knowing this doesn’t seem to make the feeling in his chest that screams  _ wrong! bad! go back!  _ leave. 

The problem is, he knows that he’s unprepared, that he’s screwing things up, that there are a million people who would be doing this job better (and that at least one of them is down here with him, doing her work quietly and competently, and kindly not saying a thing about all the ways he’s ruining things).

But he was given this job. He should be able to do it because he’s been entrusted with this task and that should mean that he can do it. If things aren’t going well it just means that there has to be something that he’s actively mucking up, because otherwise he would be able to just  _ do it _ . It’s just organization. He can organize things. But whenever he tries it’s like there’s suddenly a piece missing, and then another piece missing, and not only does he not have the missing pieces but he hadn’t even realized that there were pieces missing in the first place, and now he’s gone about things in the wrong way and can’t figure out how to go back.

Not to mention the fact that the archives themselves are— well if Gertrude really was as old as the rumours floating around in research had claimed her to be, dementia could be an explanation.

And on top of the abysmal state of the work itself, there’s his assistants.

Martin is... well he’s Martin. Perfectly polite, and nice, and utterly incompetent when it comes to any actual work. No, that’s not— Jon’s not being fair. Yes Martin makes his share of mistakes but he does have good instincts. It’s just that, he’s been working at the Institute twice as long as Jon, and he’s a good nine years older even if he doesn’t look it, and Jon knows him the least, and he’s just waiting for when Martin finally calls him out on the fact that he has absolutely no clue what he’s doing. Criticizing his every action might not be the most mature thing Jon’s ever done but... well actually, there is no but. Jon is just so stupid, and insecure, and scared that he is willing to take it out on a perfectly nice if slightly incompetent man.

Maybe he’ll get enough HR complaints lodged against him that Elias will just fire him and put them all out of their misery.

Sasha is, of course, lovely which really makes it so much worse. Because she was actually qualified to do this job. Because it should be her sitting in this office, trying to make sense of the mess Gertrude has left behind. But Jon has no place to complain. He accepted when Elias offered the job to him, so he has to take responsibility. And if that means being as professional, as put together as possible, then that’s what he’s going to do. And if he’s especially nice to Sasha then maybe that will pass for the  _ thank you _ and the _ I’m sorry  _ that he can’t say aloud.

Tim is where the difference is biggest. Jon will readily admit to being somewhat... abrasive, with new people, a trait that does not tend to gain him friends. Tim had been the person at the Institute he was closest to, the only one he’d ever _ actually _ ventured to call a friend. Of course, he knows that doesn’t go both ways. Tim could make friends with a lamppost if he tried hard enough, as evidenced by the fact that he actually got anywhere with Jon. He’s felt the tinge of bitterness to their interactions since they moved to the archives — he knows Tim’s angry on Sasha’s behalf. And he... he understands. 

It’s not that Jon _ likes _ the new tense aspect of their relationship, but he doesn’t know how to fix it, and each day that goes by draws the gap between them wider and wider. Inertia is a powerful thing, he thinks, as the idea of trying to actually do something to fix it becomes more and more fantastical.

Anyway, he’s Tim’s boss now. He doesn’t want to make him uncomfortable, make Tim feel like he _ has _ to spend time with him. That would be a thousand times worse than this distance. So Jon will be professional, and even if he can’t be a good archivist at least he’ll be able to mitigate the damage to his assistants (and, in the case of Martin, mitigate the damage  _ caused _ by his assistants).

What with all of this his birthday– well there’s no other way for him to put it. It _ hurts _ . He could’ve handled the bottle of wine, the quick congratulations. It’s what’s expected, professional. But the surprise that he genuinely hadn’t been prepared for, the kindness of them planning this, getting candles and cake and, most of all, actually volunteering to spend time with him. It’s a bit much. It’s like sticking cold hands under warm water — a kind of goodness that aches as it reminds you of what you lack.

He’d never — his birthday had never really been a  _ thing _ . A quiet affair when he was a child with few friends to speak of, passing by nearly unacknowledged by both himself and his grandmother as a teenager. It’d gone by completely silently his first year of university. But then he’d met Georgie, and she’d insisted that they at least do something, ignoring his protests of how birthdays were childish and that his surviving another year wasn’t really an accomplishment. She’d just laughed at him, and dragged him out to dinner. And it had been... nice. Nice that someone cared. Of course, after university, after he and Georgie broke up, it had been easy to let the day slip back into obscurity. Until now.

And through it all, Tim had been cheery, and bright, and kind. Even Elias showing up hadn’t been able put a damper on things. Jon really wasn’t sure where to put all this, this  _ care _ . It was... more than he’d had in a while. Really, he’d only gotten through it by acting slightly disgruntled — actually  _ processing _ how he’d felt hearing his assistants sing happy birthday to him was completely out of the question.

But now it’s five pm and he’s alone in his office, trying to organize the work that needs to be done tomorrow. He doesn’t have any real way of communicating the depth of his thanks to his assistants, but at least he can make sure that they don’t have to spend hours sifting through paper tomorrow morning.

Of course that’s when Tim pokes his head in the doorway.

“Hey, birthday boss!” he says, the same cheer from earlier colouring his tone, “We’re all about to head out to get some drinks, care to join? Or do you have some wild birthday plans you haven’t shared.”

“Thank you for the invitation Tim but I’ve really got to finish this.”

“Oh come on, it’s your birthday! The work can wait a couple of hours. It’ll be fun, you’ll see. I’ve got a bet on with Sasha that I’ll actually be able to get Martin to have a drink.”

“Do try to avoid any workplace harassment suits Tim.”

“Please, it’s Martin. He wouldn’t bring a harassment suit up against me even if I actually deserved it. Which I won't. Because I will simply be suggesting to him, as a friend, that I will happily buy him an alcoholic beverage if he would so like.”

Jon can’t contain an eye roll at that, and Tim lets out a laugh that sounds like victory.

“So are you coming boss? We’d love to have you.”

Jon very much doubts that, but he doesn’t feel like putting either of them in the uncomfortable position of making Tim admit it. “I really have to get this done. But thank you. And, ah, thank you for earlier. It was very... it was nice.”

Something in Tim’s face softens a bit as he places a hand on the door frame. “Course. It was no problem. And feel free to meet us later whenever you get tired of the paperwork. Wouldn’t want you turning into Elias.”

“If that happens you actually have permission to kill me.”

“Ah, don’t worry. I’d just kidnap you, get Sasha and Martin in on it. We’d put you through an intensive course on the history of the Labour Party and have a strict no spreadsheets allowed policy.”

“That’s certainly a relief to hear. Well if that’s it?”

“Yeah, that’s it.” Tim starts to pull away from the doorframe, but then quickly sticks his head back in. “And happy birthday Jon.” 

“Thank you Tim.”

* * *

It’s a couple of hours later when the paperwork is finally finished and Jon picks up his coat to leave. He’s about to head to the station to catch the train back to his flat when something stops him. It’s just that... well getting a drink with his coworkers sounds almost  _ nice _ . Like a way he’d actually enjoy finishing out his birthday. And then, suddenly, based off of no conscious decision that he remembers making, his feet are carrying him in the direction of the pub he knows the Institute staff frequent.

Of course, walking to the pub and actually going inside are completely different matters. It’s not that he doesn’t want to (except that at times he feels like he really doesn’t want to), it’s just that whenever he makes a step towards the door he feels his heart begin to beat faster and a terrible lump in his chest. Which is how he ends up chain smoking in the alleyway across the street, taking occasional glances at the door and trying very hard not to think about the statement he termed in his brain as  _ the anglerfish one _ .

After a mortifying thirty five minutes of standing like an absolute ass in the alley, he sees Sasha exit the building. She calls something back inside as she goes, and has a smile on her face as she walks away, pulling out her phone as she heads up the street.  _ Pathetic _ enters the growing list of words he has to describe his current situation.

Soon after Martin stumbles out, cheeks a bit red, which Jon takes to mean Tim won the bet. Martin’s glasses glint in the streetlight, and he too has a soft smile on his face. By the time he’s wandered off in the direction of the tube station Jon has decided that enough really is enough and that he needs to simply cut his losses and head home.

Of course it’s just as he’s stamping out his last cigarette that Tim shows up.

Jon must have missed him leaving in his self flagellation after seeing Martin, because he’s managed to come into the alley without Jon noticing.

“Fancy seeing you here.” he says, and Jon nearly jumps out of his skin.

“ _ Christ  _ Tim!”

“Oh come on, you gonna let little old me scare you?”

“Stop it.”

“Hey I’m not the one who’s been hiding in an alley for at least fifteen minutes.”

“How did you-”

“Sasha spotted you. Wasn’t sure though and figured I’d be safer checking.”

“I- I was just passing by and ah, I s-stopped for a-a cigarette. Yes. Yes, well, sorry for th-. Well. I’ll just be on my way.” he manages to get out, and hopefully now he can just head home and try to forget about the absolute mortification he’s currently experiencing.

Except then Tim stops him.

“No Jon wait, just. You know you could’ve come in, right?”

Jon does anything but look Tim in the face.

“I invited you to come, Jon. We would’ve been happy to have you.”

“Well I know that’s not true.” he snaps out before he’s consciously processed deciding to speak those words. 

“Oh come on. Why do you think that?”

“Well generally I believe people find relaxing to be easier without their boss there. Especially when their boss is like me.”

“What, an idiot with a posh accent?” And Jon continues his remarkable efforts to avoid Tim’s eyes. “Jon, I didn’t mean. Ugh. How am I gonna get this through to you. You like logic right? That’s what you do with all the statements, claim they’re not logical so they can’t be true. But I have to say Jon, sometimes your explanations are  _ way  _ less—”

“Tim please get to the point?”

“Right right back on track. So you like logic. Let’s look at this logically. Today is your birthday. We all chipped in to get you wine and cake. We sang happy birthday to you. We willingly spent most of the day with you. I  _ willingly _ invited you to join us for drinks. What about all that says that we would’ve been uncomfortable with you being there?”

“I. Hm. You were being polite, which I appreciate, very much so in fact, but that doesn’t necessarily mean that you actually wanted me there, or to do any of that nonsense earlier either, and it’s entirely my fault that I decided to stand in an alley—”

“Oh just  _ shut up _ .”

“W-What?”

“Come on Jon, I get that you’ve gotten pretty deep into your little spiral here but give us a bit of credit.”

“I don’t—”

“Do you think we would’ve done all this just to be polite? You think we would’ve put up with  _ Elias _ just to satisfy some pointless standard of what’s expected?”

“I just—”

“Not to mention, as you so kindly stated earlier yourself, the bottle of wine would’ve been quite enough if that had been the goal.”

“Tim it’s—”

“Yes, you’ve been a bit of an ass lately, more so than usual, and yes none of us have been handling it particularly well but we’re still your friends Jon.” Tim takes a step closer to him, shoes edging into Jon’s line of vision. “I’m still your friend.”

Finally Jon looks up and meets Tim’s eyes, and they’re so earnest that it hurts him in the same place in his chest that ached earlier.

“I... I’m sorry Tim. For, for everything.” But that’s not enough, too unspecific. He has to try harder. “I’m sorry for pushing you all away, and for being a prick, and for not appreciating you, and for accepting this stupid job and–” During this, Tim’s been moving closer to him, so that by the time he cuts him off they’re almost touching.

“Jon stop, please. I appreciate it, and you should probably say all this to Sasha and Martin too, especially Martin,” and Tim ignores the face Jon makes at that, “but that’s really not what I was trying to achieve.”

“Well then what—” except now Tim’s hand is on his cheek, lightly enough that it would be easy to pull away, but still comforting. Grounding.

“I think this is a far better way for you to express your apologies.” And then Tim is kissing him, and he’s kissing back.

It feels good, feels right, like the ache that’s been present all day is finally being soothed. Somehow Jon ends up with his back to the alley wall, Tim’s hand migrating from his cheek to his hair, Jon’s arm clutching Tim’s bicep. It’s not desperate, not like last time. The absence of alcohol probably helps. It’s just. Nice. Even if they are in a grimy alleyway.

“You know, you should really start taking me to some nicer places if you want to keep me satisfied.”

“ _ Tim _ .”

“I’m just saying, pub washroom, dingy alley, it’s not exactly the Ritz.”

“I- You’re the one who kissed me!”

“Yes, and you could’ve positioned yourself in a place that was nicer for me to kiss you in.”

“I- you-” and then Tim’s laughing and leaning in to kiss him again.

When they break away this time it’s again Tim who breaks the silence.

“Well I think we’ve graduated above ‘teenagers’ at least now.”

“What?”

“Well you can’t accuse us of sneaking off like teenagers this time. Kissing in an alley is definitely at least year three uni style nonsense.”

“That’s what you’re thinking about? Really?”

“Yes. Is there some other pressing thing I should be thinking about?”

“I mean—” and actually, there isn’t, except, “I’m your boss.”

“Yes.”

“And we just kissed.”

“We’ve done it before.”

“Yes but I’m your boss now.”

“And I kissed you. Are we going to keep listing facts?”

Jon huffs out a breath of air. Why isn’t Tim _ getting it _ . “Well I shouldn’t have let it go on. I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

“Take advantage- Jon I promise it’s fine. Better than fine in fact.”

“No it isn’t Tim!” and all the ache that had been soothed by their kiss is suddenly back. “I’m already doing a terrible job as your boss, and what do all my apologies mean if I just go make it  _ worse _ and—”

“Jon please stop. I know you’re my boss. But you’re also my friend, a friend who, on occasion, I enjoy kissing. A friend who I wouldn’t mind kissing again at some point in the future. I know that it’s not. Listen. I know this isn’t necessarily the ideal situation, but I trust you Jon. I don’t think you’re enough of an ass to ever fire me over something like this.” A pause and then, “I do live in fear of you picking over my work like you do Martin’s though.

“I- it’s perfectly reasonable to pick over Martin’s work, I have no idea how the man managed to get through graduate school without learning how to do a simple citation.”

Tim laughs at that, like there’s a joke Jon’s missing, but then he’s speaking again. “Okay, okay. We’re good Jon, I promise. As long as— You’re alright?”

“I-. Yes. I’m... I’m good.”

“Brilliant! Well, now that I’ve given you your birthday present,” Jon rolls his eyes, “let's both head home. While I know  _ you _ like the ambiance provided by your typical London alley, _ I _ don’t happen to prefer it.”

“Oh shut up.”

“Never, and the world thanks me for it.”

And they leave the alley, still bickering, but the ache in Jon’s chest has finally disappeared, and it stays gone the whole rest of the night.

* * *

  
  


The thing is, that’s not the last of it. 

Because now, on occasion, Jon joins his assistants for a drink after work. And he asks them for their advice on how to go about clearing up the mess that is the archives. And he even tries not to dismiss statement givers out of hand, no matter how ridiculous they are, or how scared the thought of these things even possibly being real makes him. And sometimes, after the work day has ended or during lunch he and Tim... kiss.

It’s only rarely, and always it’s Tim who takes the initiative, but... it’s nice. And, on top of the fact that he actually is spending a bit of time with his assistants now, it makes Jon feel a bit less lonely.

And it just so happens that one day in late July, Tim comes in as he finishes recording a statement and starts teasing him and then one thing leads to another and they’re kissing.

And then Jon sees a spider on Tim’s shoulder.

When the worms begin pouring through the hole in the wall that Jon makes in his dash to get away, they both run towards the back of the archives. They grab Matin on the way, slam the door shut, and Martin begins the work of pulling the worms out of Jon and Tim. It’s tense and terrifying but they’re okay. For now.

When Sasha returns to the archives from a run up to the library though, Tim bursts out of the room to tackle her out of the way of Prentiss, and then both of them end up in Jon’s office. Which is where all the worms were. Which surely means they’re dead.

* * *

  
  


“ ...A ghost? Really?”

“Shut up Martin”

And Martin looks like he’s about to keep going but then there’s a banging on the wall and he’s about to die here, just like Sasha and Tim did, just like Martin is about to as well, but then—

But then the wall bursts open, and they don’t die because it’s Sasha and Tim who are behind it, because they found the spare gas, and they all flee into the tunnels.

They get seperated but they all make it out, eventually. Of course, Jon and Tim are covered in what will soon be scars, and Sasha and Martin have just discovered the dead body of Jon’s predecessor arranged creepily in the tunnels that apparently exist below their place of work but. They made it out.

After checking in with Elias, Jon sends everyone home, despite the fact that there’s a part of him that wants, that  _ needs  _ to take their statements. They’re all still here. They all made it out. But they’re not okay. And... and that matters more than getting this recorded. Because they’re his friends. He can take their statements in the morning.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! You can find me on tumblr @lesbianaglaya


End file.
